


The Witching Queen

by tinee



Category: Feverwake - Victoria Lee
Genre: Bethany is done with everyone, Level IV raises a kid lmao, M/M, Noam and Dara basically raise a kid, probably some lehrer bashing idk, rated teen because swearing and maybe alluding to some stuff, refugee camp, smuggling a child into government facilities gang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23072815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinee/pseuds/tinee
Summary: After Beatriz King died, Noam didn’t let himself get close to any of the other patients.He did his job—he checked on patients, he held friendly conversations, but he didn't let himself make any attachments.But he couldn't help but feel sorry for Mika Carter, the toddler who was brought in with her sister and mother. Both of them passed away in less than a day, leaving Mika on her own. She was doing pretty well, he thought. Maybe she'd stay that way.When Mika goes into a coma, Noam can't help the ache in his heart.Then she woke up.
Relationships: Noam Álvaro/Dara Shirazi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I gave Bethany, Taye, and Noam different shifts at the tent for uhhh reasons, instead of keeping them all together like I'm pretty sure they were in the book. Also, fucking STAN victoria lee for responding to my dm on insta ily

After Beatriz King died, Noam didn’t let himself get close to any of the other patients.

More of them came and went; he remembered all of their names. _Lilly Devlin, Tey Scott, Rowan Walker, Max Bishop._ There were dozens of them. He smiled and sat by their bedsides and listened to them talk—if they were strong enough to, that is—but he didn’t let himself get close to them. He couldn’t do that to himself. Couldn’t give himself the hope he so desperately wanted, only to watch the virus take it away again.

On the fifth day, the intake of patients seemed to slow. Only four were brought in to replace the six that had died the day before. 

Three of the new patients shared a last name. Wendy, Jane, and Mikaela Carter. Jane and Mika were sisters; their father had already died. Wendy, their mother, was barely hanging on. Noam tried not to think about how the girls had probably seen their father die, just like he had. He tried not to think about the way that Jane, only eleven, had probably barely understood what was happening when blood and magic started oozing out of her father’s pores. About how Mika had probably screamed, like any toddler would, when soldiers came in to take her father away, wrapped in a dirty sheet.

Mika’s bed was between her mother and sister’s. She was the most lively of the three, but that wasn’t saying much. 

The next day, Jane died. Wendy was distraught—Doctor Halsing had to sedate her while Noam and Dara carried Jane’s body out. Mika didn’t know what was happening. She kept asking Noam about her sister. Where did she go? When would she get back? Noam didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. Instead, he showed her a magic trick. Little kids were always easy to distract.

Wendy only lasted a few more hours.

Mika seemed to have caught on that something was happening. The somber expressions from everyone around her, the sad tones—it must’ve clued her in, because she wasn’t nearly as energetic on the third day of her stay. At least, that’s what Noam hoped was the reason.

“NoNo,” Mika called out in her shaky voice. 

Noam looked over his shoulder from where he was sponging down another patient. She was reaching toward him with grabby hands, like he was her only lifeline. He glanced back at the other patient—a man named Ethan Richards in his early 20s, as good as dead with the coma he was in—before tossing the washcloth to the side and washing his hands, going to kneel on the ground beside Mika’s mattress.

“Hey, Mika,” Noam said, brushing her sweat-soaked strawberry blonde curls out of her face. 

“Head hurts,” she whispered. He shifted the facemask down to smile sadly at her, rules be damned. Bethany would probably lecture him if she saw, but he didn’t care. He hated the way that she leaned into his touch, hated the way she clung to him like he was the only person left on this planet. And, to her, he probably was. It was going to make it all so much worse when she finally left.

“Do you need water?” 

She shook her head, struggling to move to her side. Noam untangled the IV cord from under her.

“D’ya habe a story?” 

Noam paused. A story? He stumbled for an idea. “Uh, once upon a time…” He was at a loss. What was he supposed to say? Sure, he had read plenty of books, but most of those stories wouldn’t be interesting to a kid.

“Once upon a time, there was a handsome knight.” Noam tried not to jump at Dara’s sudden appearance behind him; he hadn’t noticed him walking up. He gave Dara a half-hearted glare for surprising him. 

“He was the captain of the Royal Guard, and the son of an important general, but he was so close to the king that everyone called him the prince,” Dara continued, with this strange look on his face that Noam couldn't figure out. “Everyone suspected he would take over the throne when the king finally passed, seeing as the king had no heirs himself.”

Mika was already enraptured with the story, her eyes wide. She clutched one of those shitty hospital pillows to her chest, turning her head to watch Dara as he kneeled beside Noam. It was the most attentive Noam had seen her since she came into the ward.

“The knight was proud of his position. He was nearly the best swordsman in the kingdom, second only to his father.” Dara’s voice turned distasteful, and Noam couldn’t tell if it was just for effect or not. “The king treated him like his own son—much more so than his real father did.

“One day, a new set of recruits came into the training program. The knight was assigned to help them, even though he hated the task. However, most of the recruits were naturals and already had training, so they weren’t too hard to manage. One of them, however…” Dara paused, side-eying Noam with a smug look. Noam wondered what that was about. 

“He was anything but a natural, so far behind the others that he had to take extra lessons. The knight and the rest of the Royal Guard all thought he was a bit slow, but the knight’s father had taken a… personal interest in him, so to say.” Oh. Wow. Okay. So that’s what that look had meant. It was pretty obvious that the new recruit was meant to be Noam. Dara, telling a story to a three year old just to make fun of Noam. How characteristic.

So did that make Dara the ‘handsome knight’? Noam didn’t necessarily disagree, but it seemed a little narcissistic.

“The new trainee was absolutely atrocious at holding a sword, and—” Dara cut himself off abruptly. Noam was sure that if he had continued, it would’ve been all about how terrible the new recruit was. “She’s asleep,” he said, standing up. 

Noam hadn’t even noticed that Mika’s eyes had drifted closed—he had been too busy staring at Dara. That was becoming a bad habit of his.

“You’re good with kids,” Noam said quietly as they walked out of decontamination. They’d picked up most of Level IV, but Ames was still on shift. Bethany and Taye were walking up ahead, probably discussing some new candy Taye had found. Dara hardly spared him a glance.

“And you’re horrible with them,” he said. Noam scowled, mostly because he was right. 

Dara was lucky he was pretty.

“I think…” Noam bit his lip. Should he tell Dara? He’d probably laugh at him. “I think that Mika—that girl—might survive.”

Dara didn’t look surprised. “Maybe.”

“It’s just, she’s doing really well. And, you know, maybe she’ll be one of the one in ten. There was a kid in one of the other tents who survived, wasn’t there? I just—”

Thankfully, Dara saved him from his painful rambling. “I get it, Noam.”

“Sorry.”

“No, I mean— I _get_ it. You see someone doing well, and you think maybe they’ll be the exception. Just…” He paused carefully. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

When Noam returned to the tent the next morning, Mika was asleep again. Or maybe she was still asleep, he didn’t know. Most patients didn’t get very easy sleep, unless it was a coma. He’d have to ask Bethany when he could catch her; her shift started earlier than his, and she had probably already been briefed by the overnight staff. 

“She’s been sleeping since we left yesterday.” Speak of the devil. 

“That’s—”

“Over 12 hours. Yeah, I know,” Bethany said, standing at Noam’s side. “That’s comatose.”

Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Mika looked angelic in her unconscious state, even with her sickly complexion and cracked skin. Her strawberry blonde hair splayed out in a halo behind her on a mattress that was much too big for her, a few pieces caught across her face. Noam reached forward and gently brushed them out of the way, trying to ignore that aching feeling in his chest.

Bethany smiled sadly at him. “I’m sorry. Ames told me that Dara said—” She cut off as Noam looked sharply at her. 

“Seriously? He told her— That dick,” Noam seethed under his breath, walking away to tend to another patient. Bethany trailed along behind him.

“Don’t take it personally, they tell each other everything.”

“I’m not taking it personally.”

“Okay.”

Noam ignored her pitying looks as he made his way through the patients, checking on each one. Most of them were comatose, including… nope. He wasn’t thinking about that right now. The ones that weren’t unconscious were too weak to speak, so they worked in tense silence. When Doctor Halsing came in, she asked Noam a few questions about the patients, and his answers were short and snappish.

Taye came in for his shift an hour later, and soon the air was filled with his and Bethany’s chatter. Noam found it more obnoxious than usual. 

It was five in the afternoon when Bethany left, and then it was just Noam and Taye. Attempts to have friendly conversations were made, but Noam ignored them. He just wanted to get his shift over with and get out of that death-filled tent.

Noam didn’t really have anything to do after checking up on the patients, so he sat beside Mika’s bed, his legs crossed. The only indication that she was even alive was the light fluttering of her lashes and the slow, shaky rise and fall of her chest. Her little hands were wrapped tightly in her thin blanket, gripping it like she’d die if she let go. 

When Noam’s shift ended, Mika still hadn’t woken up. He didn’t want to leave—who knew what would happen while he was gone? He wanted to stay sitting right beside her. Making sure she was still breathing.

Instead, he brushed his fingers over her forehead and whispered goodbye.

Needless to say, he didn’t get much sleep that night.

“We’re leaving tonight,” Bethany said to him the second he walked in the next day; she had been waiting by the entrance for him. He brushed past her without saying anything, breathing a sigh of relief when he caught sight of Mika, still in her bed. Her eyes were closed, and her skin shone with sweat, but that didn’t matter to him at the moment. She was alive, and that was enough.

“Did you hear me? We’re leaving for Durham tonight. The people down here have a handle on this now.” 

“What?” Noam asked stupidly. Distracted.

“We’re leaving. Taye’s shift is ending early, so is Ames’, and then we’re all leaving for Durham.”

“Why?”

“ _Why?_ ” Bethany sighed, obviously trying to remain patient. “They don’t need our help down here anymore, and Lehrer wants us back for training.”

“But—” Okay, yeah, there were a lot less patients than there had been the first couple of days, and things weren’t nearly as frantic, but there had to be _some_ use for him. He couldn’t just _leave_ , not when Mika was—

“I want to stay and help people too, Noam, but there’s nothing we can do.” She shrugged helplessly and patted him on the arm before walking away. He stared after her for a moment.

Noam sat by Mika’s bedside and closed his eyes. After all, it was like Bethany had said: they hardly needed their help at this point. So why should he do anything now? Why should he assist these people who just keep letting innocent souls die?

As far as Noam had heard from the other volunteers, only one person had survived so far. One person out of, what, hundreds? The survival rate was supposed to be higher. More people _had_ to have survived. They should’ve, at least. Maybe if it weren’t for the shitty conditions and low resources… Was this really the best that Sacha could afford to give? 

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there before a small groan forced him to open his eyes. Mika’s soft features were contorted into a pained grimace. There was sweat dripping down her pale face and her jaw was clenched tightly, and Noam didn’t know what to do to help.

“Mika? Hey, Mika, it’s okay,” he whispered, wiping down her forehead with a cool washcloth before leaning back and shouting for help. “Bethany? Taye? Doctor Halsing!”

Taye rushed over; he was the only other non-infected person in the tent. Mika was breathing heavily now, short gasps that shook her small frame. All of her muscles were tensed, her knuckles white from death-gripping her blanket. Her lips parted as she whimpered in her unconscious state.

“Go get Halsing,” Noam told Taye sharply, not bothering to look up to see if he listened. He pressed the back of his hand to Mika’s forehead. Burning.

He pressed a clean, damp washcloth to her head. She leaned her head away from it at first, but after a moment, she relaxed. Her entire body fell limp before seizing up again. 

Noam felt numb. His brain was shutting down, and there was a girl convulsing right in front of him, and he couldn’t _think_. Taye still wasn’t back with Doctor Halsing. 

As suddenly as the spasms had started, they stopped.

Mika’s hands unclenched themselves from her blanket and moved up to her throat, scratching at the delicate skin there. Noam took her hands in his, holding them down. 

“Jane? Mommy?” Her voice was hardly a whisper, thin and strained, but it was there, and that was good enough for Noam.

There wasn’t a tangible change—Noam couldn’t see anything that was different from what it had been two hours ago. And yet, something was off. The energy in the air was buzzing, more alive than it had been moments before.

_Magic._

Mika’s eyes opened, squinting against the light in the tent. She looked around wildly, searching for something, before her eyes fell on Noam and she calmed. Noam carefully let go of her hands, and they fell back to her sides.

“NoNo?” Mika tried to sit up, but Noam pushed her back down gently with a hand. 

“I’m here, Mika.” 

She relaxed back into the hard mattress and let her eyes fall shut. “Okay.” The ‘k’ came out as a ‘d’.

Noam wiped down her sweaty face with a mostly clean cloth. Then, sighing, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against the mattress. His head hurt, and his heart hurt, but it was okay. She was okay.

Mika Carter was a witching.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attack
> 
> also when there's the comment about telepaths, it's not because noam knows, its just a way to help describe how the fuck he's feeling(you'll see what i mean when you read it)

It felt like it was hours before Taye had finally returned with Doctor Halsing, but it had really only been a few minutes. Mika was still sleeping, and Noam was still sitting by her side, stroking her soft curls. 

“False alarm,” he said. Should he tell Halsing that Mika was a witching? What was the protocol on that? Would they take her away to some government facility where he’d never see her again? Maybe they let him take her with him if he asked really, really nicely. Maybe Lehrer wanted another kid, who knows? “She’s fine.”

Halsing narrowed her sharp eyes at him from behind her mask. “Has she woken up at all? Since she went comatose?”

“...No.” 

Halsing didn’t even bother checking on Mika herself—she had “much more important things” to be doing, apparently. Noam couldn’t help but scowl at that. Mika _was_ important.

After she left, Taye didn’t go back to tending the other patients. Instead, he sat beside Noam with his legs crossed. 

“We’re leaving soon,” Taye said. 

“I know, Bethany told me.” 

“No, dude, I mean, like, we’re leaving _soon_. Like, T-minus fifteen minutes.” 

Noam’s heart dropped like a stone in his stomach. They were leaving that soon? What was he going to do with Mika? He couldn’t just _leave_ her here. He remembered waking up alone in the red room. The hopelessness, the trapped feeling, being completely enveloped in death and sickness… He didn’t want Mika to wake up to that. Didn’t want her to wake up alone. He could try to find Halsing and tell her that she had just woken up, but there was no telling what would happen from there.

“So.” Taye patted Noam’s knee, standing up. “I’m gonna go find B. I’ll leave you to…” He looked at Mika. “...say goodbye.”

A few minutes later, Noam was still sitting there, unmoving. He didn’t look up when someone else walked into the tent. 

Someone said something. Noam didn’t respond—he was too busy drowning in his own thoughts. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to respond—he _couldn’t._ His brain wasn’t making coherent thoughts, and his mouth wasn’t moving, and words weren’t cooperating with him at all. He didn’t even know who was speaking.

A hand touched his shoulder, and someone was saying his name. The touch was unpleasant electricity, burning hot through his clothes. It felt like someone was pressing a live wire to his skin. They were saying something else now, the hand still resting on his shoulder.

Then, all at once, there was a feeling of ease. It was like his fuzzy mind cleared, only to be replaced with another warm, numb feeling. It was the most relaxed he’d felt in ages, Noam briefly thought. The gauzy veil in front of his mind and eyes lifted, and his senses were working again. 

There was still a hand on his shoulder, but now there were two, much smaller hands in his own. Mika stared at him with wide eyes, her lower lip jutting out in a worried pout. 

“NoNo? ‘t’s okay,” she said, holding onto his fingers tighter.

Noam stared at her for a minute, vaguely registering the warm, wet tears on his cheeks. He smiled then, pulling one hand away to wipe at his face. “I’m okay, Mika.”

“Noam?” 

Dara.

The hand on his shoulder still hadn’t left, and Noam froze. Jesus fuck, had Dara seen all that? Shit. That warm, happy feeling was gone now. 

“Are you okay?” 

He sounded almost worried. Noam finished scrubbing his face with his sleeve and straightened his posture, scooting just enough for Dara to get the hint and move his hand. Immediately, he regretted it, his shoulder feeling cold in its absence. His face burned with embarrassment. He didn’t look at Dara.

“Stop that.”

“What?” Noam hated the way his voice cracked.

“I’m not—” Dara paused. He sounded frustrated. “I’m not going to judge you, Noam.”

Noam scowled. Like he could believe that. “Right. Let me guess, you expect me to just spill all my worst fears and biggest hopes, and then you go running off to tell Ames about all of it?”

Call him petty. He didn’t care. It wasn’t right for Dara to just tell Ames about Mika like that.

“What— Oh.” Dara sighed. Then, like it pained him, he said, “I’m sorry.”

Noam felt… well, he wasn’t sure what he felt. His chest was a jumble of emotions, and his head a tangle of thoughts. Even the best telepath wouldn’t be able to decipher it.

“We’re leaving.” 

“I know.”

“You don’t want to leave her.” It wasn’t a question.

“...No.”

“Wha’s happenin’, NoNo?” Mika was still gripping one of his hands. He stared at her fingers, short and thin.

“You’re okay, Mika. You’re gonna be okay.” Her pale brows furrowed.

There was heavy silence for a few more seconds before Noam finally looked up at Dara, shifting closer to Mika.

“She’s a witching, Dara.”

More silence. Then—

“Go.”

“What?” Noam said. Out of anything he could’ve said, that wasn’t what he had been expecting. 

“Go pack up and meet the others. I’ll get her.”

Noam frowned. “I’m not leaving her.”

“We’re not. _Go_ , Noam. I’ll get her out of here.”

“But how—”

“Trust me.”

Noam had a choice. He could trust Dara, or he could leave Mika here. His heart had clawed its way up from the bottom of his stomach and was now taking up residence in his throat.

“I—” His gaze darted between Mika and Dara. Dara’s eyes were wide. Vulnerable. “Okay.”

Dara gave him a small smile. Noam turned away, unwilling to let him see the redness in his cheeks, and gave Mika a hug. He pressed a small kiss to the crown of her head before pulling away, standing up. 

“NoNo? Where you going?” 

“It’s okay, Mika. Dara’s going to help you.” He paused, glancing back at Dara. “We’re going home, Mika.”

Dara’s smile now was grim.

He looked back when he got to the entrance of the tent. Dara was crouched beside Mika, talking to her in a soft, gentle voice. It was too low for Noam to tell what he was saying. There was this warm feeling in his chest that spread through his body as he watched them. 

He turned and walked away.

Dara wasn’t on the truck to the plane they’d be taking on the way back to Durham, and Noam was starting to get worried.

Okay, that was a lie. Noam had been worried since the second he stepped foot outside of the tent. How could he not be? He had entrusted Dara, a boy who frequently stumbled into the barracks at 4AM reeking of alcohol, with a three year old child. He didn’t doubt that he could pull it off, but there was still that nagging sensation that something was going to go terribly wrong.

When Ames asked him where Dara was, all Noam could do was shrug. He didn’t trust himself to open his mouth.

By the time they reached the hangar, all of Level IV was a little bit panicked. 

They boarded the small plane that was going to take them to the capitol in a silent, single-file line. There were only six people on this flight returning to Durham—the Level IV cadets and Swensson. There were other witching soldiers that had come, but they were returning later. They wanted the students back as soon as they weren’t needed so that they could continue their studies. The plane wouldn’t take off without Dara, but Swensson was getting a little impatient.

“He was on one of the other trucks, he’ll be here in a minute,” Ames covered smoothly when Swensson came out from the cockpit for a headcount.

As if on cue, Dara stepped into the entrance of the plane, his hands clasped behind him. 

“Sorry I’m late, Colonel. I was caught up with one of the patients and had to catch a ride with one of the other groups,” he said with an apologetic smile. Noam desperately tried to catch his eye, dying to know what happened with Mika. He didn’t see her anywhere, but he had to trust that Dara had it all sorted out. Probably. Hopefully.

Swensson turned around, muttering something that Noam couldn’t quite catch, and ducked back into the cockpit. The door shut behind him.

“Dara,” Noam started. “Did—”

Everyone in the plane was looking at him now. Dara stared at him for a second, an indecipherable look in his eyes, before stepping to the side. The plane exploded into noise.

“Is that—”

“Dara, did you fucking stea—”

“Holy shit, why is—”

Noam didn’t say anything. He just smiled so hard that his face hurt.

“Shut up,” Dara said harshly to the rest of the compartment. “Be quiet, I’ll explain in a minute. Or…” He nodded toward Noam. “He will.” 

The plane fell silent, all eyes on Noam. He paid them no mind.

“Hey, Mika,” he said, standing up. He had to stoop to walk over to her. 

“NoNo?” 

It took a second for his presence to register, but as soon as it did, she dropped Dara’s hand and launched herself at Noam. Her balance was a little unsteady from having spent almost a week bedridden, plus dealing with the aftereffects of the virus. He had to catch her in his arms, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to make sure he didn’t let her go.

“Okay, what the fuck is happening?” Ames was the one to break the silence. Everyone else was busy staring at the little girl in Noam’s arms.

“Takeoff in two minutes!” Swensson said from the cockpit. 

“I’ll explain in the air.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing "Maybe Lehrer wanted another kid, who knows?" hurt a lot thanks i hate him


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're back in business, darling

“So you just fucking… kidnapped a toddler?”

Noam sighed at Ames, tightening his hold on the little girl in his arms. She had fallen asleep after they took off, refusing to move from Noam’s lap.

“It’s not kidnapping,” he insisted. Dara hid a laugh behind a cough, but Noam could see it for what it was. He glared at him out of the corner of his eye.

“You took a three year old girl from her bed and smuggled her onto a plane to take her home with you. You’re telling me that’s  _ not _ kidnapping?” 

“Exactly.”

Ames snorted.

“Listen, I just… I didn’t know what else to do, okay? I didn’t want her to be taken off to some training program where they’d probably work her half to death, and I couldn’t just leave her there. Besides, you’re all complicit in this now, so,” Noam said.

“Unless I go tell Swensson about her right now,” Ames suggested. Noam felt his heart constrict in his chest, and Dara shot Ames a warning glance.

“Ames, quit it.” 

Noam almost couldn’t believe that this was the same boy who constantly harassed him about his remedial lessons. Then again, Dara had been full of pleasant surprises the past couple of days. 

“Won’t people, like, notice a missing child?” Taye said. He was taking small, deliberate bites of a red Airhead at a frustratingly slow pace.

“Not her,” Dara said. Ames rolled her eyes.

“Nobody gives a fuck about the infected,” she said. “If they turn out to be a witching, great. If they don’t, well—you were there when we burned the bodies. Nobody’s gonna miss a contaminated baby.”

Noam would—did—but he didn’t say that. Dara glanced over at him and then down at the child in his arms before looking away.

“What are you gonna do with it?” Taye asked, pointing vaguely in Mika’s direction with the Airhead.

“Her,” Noam corrected, frowning. “She’s not an inanimate object.” 

“You didn’t answer the question,” Bethany said. She leaned forward and rested her chin in her hands. “What’s gonna happen to her? It’s not like she can stay with us in the barracks. The rest of her family is gone.”

Fuck. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. He had imagined she would stay with Noam, but that just wasn’t possible, was it? Now that he had regular classes on top of his lessons with Lehrer, he wouldn’t have time to watch a kid. Besides, he was 16. It wasn’t like he was at all capable of being any kind of parental figure. 

And then there was Lehrer. Noam had thought at first that maybe, if he went to him and asked really nicely, he might take Mika in like he did Dara, but the longer he thought about it, the stupider it seemed. He already had enough on his plate with one kid and being the minister of defense, and Noam had no right to ask for any kind of favors from him, much less adopt another kid.

“Why not?” 

Noam’s gaze snapped up to find Dara staring right back at him.

“Huh?” Bethany said.

“Why can’t she stay with us?” Dara shrugged. “Just don’t get caught.”

“Dara, you do realize how insane you sound, right?” Bethany said with wide eyes. “Couldn’t you talk to your dad or something? I’m sure he could figure something out.”

“No,” Dara said immediately. Ames frowned and hooked her foot around his, pulling it closer to her. He kicked her away.

“So are we just gonna, like… collectively raise a child?” Taye said. “I did not agree to this.”

“You didn’t have to. I decided,” Dara said, raising an eyebrow as if to say, ‘What are you gonna do about it?’ Taye just scoffed and said, “Whatever,” under his breath, sinking down in his seat and taking a violent bite of his Airhead.

“Not it for diaper duty,” Ames said, shrugging.

“Most three year olds don’t wear diapers, Ames.”

“Whatever, Dara,” she said, mocking his superior tone. It was only a little bit funny.

“Is no one going to point out how absolutely insane this is?” Bethany said. She looked between Noam, Taye, and Ames. “No? Nobody? Fine. This is fine. Just raising a child in the basement of the Level IV barracks, trying not to get caught.”

“Exactly,” Dara said with a sharp smile.

“How are we gonna get her to the barracks without anyone noticing? What about classes? Dr. Howard? This is insane,” she said again.

“We’ll be fine,” is all Dara said.

“Sorry, wait, go back. We have a basement?”

“No, Noam.”

“You’re not putting her in a duffel bag,” Noam said. 

“Why not?” Dara countered, moving clothes from his bag to Ames. 

“That is a living being,” Bethany said. She shook her head, and Noam got the distinct feeling she was very disappointed in all of them. “A human person.”

“So we’ll poke a couple holes,” Dara said. “It’s breathable fabric.”

“Shrinking her is always an option.”

“For the last time, Taye, no, you are not using your powers on a literal person,” Bethany said.

“I did it to my parents and they were fine.”

“He  _ what? _ ” Noam said, looking between Bethany and Taye. 

Dara continued as if none of them had spoken. “An illusion would be too risky, shrinking is… no, and Ames, I don’t think anyone would buy that you’re pregnant.”

“I mean, everyone knows what we get up to on the weekends.” She winked at Noam. He looked back toward Dara.

“Wait, why wouldn’t an illusion work?” 

Dara stared blankly at Noam before going back to dumping clothes out of his duffel bag, ignoring the question.

“Alcohol can make his powers a little muddy,” Ames replied for him with a small, mischievous smile. Dara kicked her again without looking up, and Noam could’ve sworn he saw the tips of his ears burn pink.

“Of course you two were drinking while we were stationed at a contamination center. Of  _ course.  _ That explains how either of you think this is anything short of insane,” Bethany said. Ames, at least, had the decency to look ashamed. “Noam, you too?”

“What? No, I wasn’t drinking.” He didn’t even know they had brought alcohol. He might’ve asked for some if he had.

“Noam’s just emotionally attached to the thing,” Taye said, putting in earbuds. He had finally finished his Airhead.

Well. It wasn’t like he could deny it.

Noam looked between Dara and the kid in his own lap, unsure now. If Dara had been drinking… 

Dara must’ve seen the look on his face, because he rolled his eyes and said, “I’m sober. Pinkie swear.”

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Bethany said, slamming the barracks door closed. 

“And I can’t believe that actually worked,” Ames snorted. 

“Insane. Literally insane.”

“Just how many times are you planning on saying that?” Dara said, his bag slung over his shoulder.

After a moment, he let the illusion drop. He had Mika propped on his hip, her arms hanging loosely by her side as she slept on his shoulder. 

“I still think the duffel bag would’ve been funnier,” Ames said, walking past him to toss her overfilled bag on the couch. It had all of Dara’s stuff in it now, and Noam was pretty sure he heard at least two bottles clink together when it dropped.

Noam took Mika from Dara, holding her up so he could see her better. Her skin was still too warm to the touch, but she wasn’t quite as pale as before.

“Let me see her,” Bethany sighed, holding her hands out. Noam passed her off to the resident healer without complaint. 

“So what do we do now?” he said. He sat on the opposite end of the couch from Dara, who was digging his stuff out of Ames’ bag. When Dara looked up, his eyes were bright but tired. 

“Of course you didn’t have a plan.” Dara rolled his eyes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Noam said indignantly. 

“Dara, lay off him. Not everyone knows the four steps to being Level IV,” Ames said, turning to Noam. “The first step is always to make a plan.”

“Which you failed,” Dara said.

“What are the rest of the steps?”

“Execute the plan,” Taye said. Noam hadn’t even noticed him come back from the bathroom.

“Expect the plan to go horribly wrong,” Ames continued.

“And wing the hell out of it,” the three of them said together.

“You don’t want to know how many times they practiced that,” Bethany said dryly. Noam twisted in his seat to look at her, standing up when he didn’t see Mika in her arms.

“Where is she?” he asked before Bethany could say anything else. “Where’s Mika?”

“Mika’s fine, Noam.” Bethany walked around the side of the couch and sat next to Dara, pulling Noam down with her. She crossed her legs under her, facing Noam. “A little weak, still recovering from the virus, but she’ll be fine. She’s sleeping in the spare bed in me and Ames’ room.”

“ _ Which _ is where she’ll be staying until further notice,” Dara said. 

“Why not with us?”

Dara just stared at him until Noam had to look away.

“Cool, are we done here? ‘Cause I wanna dip,” Taye said.

“The fuck does that even mean?” Ames said. “Weirdo.”

“There’s still a lot to cover,” Bethany said, “but you can go, I guess.”

“Sweet.”

“What else can there be?” Ames said after he left for the boys’ room. “She’s three. What could a three year old possibly need?”

“I don’t know, Ames, what could a three year old need?” Bethany said sarcastically. Noam wasn’t used to seeing her so… catty. “It’s not like she needs food, or entertainment, or supervision while we’re at classes.”

“Sorry, jeez,” Ames said, sinking down lower in her armchair.

“What do three year olds eat?” Noam said. Ames was on her phone now and didn’t look up.

“Normal people food, I’m assuming,” Dara said. “She can eat what we have here. We don’t have classes until Monday, so that gives us two days to figure that out.”

Nobody said anything else. Noam tucked his hands under his thighs and kicked his feet absently, staring at his socked toes. He had kicked his shoes off at the barracks door.

“Thank you,” he said after a minute. Dara’s eyes met his when he looked up, and he wondered how long Dara had been looking at him.

“I didn’t do it for you,” Dara said, then left for the boy’s bedroom without saying anything else.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Noam said, watching him go. Bethany didn’t respond, and Ames just snorted quietly. “Hey, uh—”

“You wanna stay in our room with Mika? Just for tonight?” Bethany said softly. The look in her eyes said she understood exactly how he felt. 

“I never signed off on this,” Ames said, holding up a finger. Then she apparently decided she didn’t care that much and went back to her phone. He glanced through it with a mental flick of technopathy and saw she was watching some anime he didn’t recognize.

“Sure, Noam,” Bethany said, smiling gently, even though he’d never answered. “I’m sure Mika will want to wake up to a familiar face.”

“You’re sleeping on the floor, though,” Ames added. “My house, my rules.”

“That’s fine,” Noam said, at the same time that Bethany said, “Not your house, Ames.”

“You really care about her, huh?”

Noam looked up from his holoreader. Ames had been sitting on the edge of her bed, but she slid down to sit across from him. She was wearing a tank top and shorts, and Noam didn’t know how she could stand to be sitting on the cold floor with her legs exposed like that. His feet were freezing, even with socks. It was well past midnight, and Mika and Bethany were both sleeping. Noam hadn’t even known Ames was awake.

“I mean, yeah,” Noam said defensively. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Ames said. Noam couldn’t tell in the dim light, but he was pretty sure she had rolled her eyes. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Noam couldn’t find anything else to say. He didn’t know how to explain how he felt about Mika—like she was the only thing he cared about anymore, for some reason that he couldn’t tell you if you asked him. 

“What did Dara mean?” he said after the silence began to feel awkward. “Earlier. When he said he didn’t do it for me. I mean, I know he wouldn't do something like this just for me, but the way he said it made it seem...” He let the sentence trail off.

Ames scoffed, and Noam began to think he wasn’t going to get an answer until she started to talk.

“Dara’s parents died when he was four,” she said. “Mysterious circumstances. Witchings, both of them. Level II, I think. One time we found a picture of his mom in an old news article, for some award or something. Dara definitely has her eyes. Nazreen was her name.” She paused, and then said, slowly, “Dara doesn’t remember her at all.”

“Oh,” Noam said, and that was enough.

He had never considered what it must feel like to not be able to remember your parents at all. He could still see his mother’s face when he closed his eyes, could still remember what she smelled like when he hugged her after getting home from school.

And maybe that was it. Maybe it was the way Mika’s curls reminded him of his mother, even if they weren’t the same shade of red. Or maybe, if he thought about it a bit harder, it was the fact that he knew what it felt like to watch the life drain from your family as you watch. To have to wake up alone next to rows of dead bodies. To have no one left.

**Author's Note:**

> listen i have like eight different fic ideas for TFK and also electric heir comes out in a week and i've been crying over dara for the past 30 minutes but like i'm fine  
> also my pfp is 16 yr old mika thanks shes adorable


End file.
